


Truly, madly, deeply

by Terfle



Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
Genre: F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 08:50:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12477852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terfle/pseuds/Terfle
Summary: Does Rochefort have more than professional intention towards Milady? Love or lust? She can't be sure





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not to romanticise or excuse rape

A footstep and a soft knock alerted her to a presence at the door. She bade him enter, knowing it was a man. It was mostly men who came to her door. She wasn’t expecting him though. Somehow the knock didn’t correspond with her impression of this tall, well built dark man. Setting down her makeup box, Milady leaned against her dressing table nonchalantly.

‘Rochefort. What can I do for you at this time of night?’ They both knew this was a polite enquiry meaning ‘what the hell do you want?’ He bowed his head slightly, in slight deference to a lady. He wasn’t entirely without manners.

‘I just wanted to know the general picture about the preparations for tomorrow’s ball. Is the Cardinal aware of Buckingham’s personal guards?’

‘Personal guards?’

‘The musketeers. They are engaged unofficially to make sure he is unharmed.’

‘Do you think they will get past me? I’ll make sure to get what I need.’ Her tone was disdainful, eyes cold.

‘Just making sure you know what you are doing. If he is to come to any trouble...’ His insinuation was clear enough, was she up to the task of seducing Buckingham and getting away with the diamonds under the keen noses of the musketeers?

‘I am beyond discreet!’ she snapped, anger getting the better of her. How dare he doubt her skills? The arrogant captain. She took a deep breath and resumed her tightly civil tone. ‘As you’ve come to tell me nothing of use, I shall expect you want to go back to your own room and do whatever it is you occupy yourself with during the dark hours.’ It was a clear dismissal that filled Rochefort with rage.

‘You think you can treat people the way you do and expect any of them not to want to undermine you?’ he hissed, his dark eye boring into her haughty face. She tilted her head slightly to the right and asked slyly about who would want to undermine her. Stepping closer, she lowered her voice and told him on no uncertain terms that anyone crossing her would suffer the consequences. He had no doubt that would be true, Milady was a fierce enemy. Her powers of persuasion were immense and she had conned men, wealthy and poor alike out of anything precious they owned. She turned away and rearranged items of her dressing table. She was finished with the conversation.

He frowned, a deep crease winging its way down to his nose, corresponding with the expression reflected in his eye. Only one eye remained but it was a fierce, hawk like eye, the other being hidden behind a patch of leather. A comic figure he may have cut but for his relentless sword stroke and commanding air.

‘Can I assume everything will be going as planned?’ he asked sarcastically, knowing that his presence was only annoying her further. He felt a spark of vindictive pleasure over it. He could never sort out his feelings for her but provoking a reaction kept him going until the next time.

‘What is it now?’ she asked him, observing him from the tiny mirror opposite her. ‘Surely you’ve finished insulting me?’ He turned to see his faint reflection, a dark smudge in her horizon. He walked forward until she was facing her reflection, back still turned, smirking slightly. He put a gloved hand lightly on her shoulder and mockingly asked her how much she charged per night. She lightly informed him that she was too expensive for his pocket. Shook off his hand and pointedly told him where the door was. His heart beat faster than he cared to admit. Did he dare voice his wish? For it was his wish, no doubt, no matter how much he despised her methods. He hesitated and threw caution to the winds.

He certainly wiped the smirk off her face this time.

‘Kiss me.’ 


	2. Chapter 2

She stared at him incredulously, not sure how to think, what to say. He had caught her off balance. She scanned his face suspiciously, looking for a hint of a joke, anything that might help her understand what was going on. She took a step back into the table and stumbled. He caught her as she tripped but unused to the unfamiliar arms supporting her, broke out of his grip and ended up on the other side of the room, hair tumbling over her cheek, chest heaving as she tried to sort out this turn of events.

‘Please don’t be scared. I was just...I just...’ He didn’t know what to say, he felt clumsy and awkward facing this doe in the lamplight. He wanted to hold her in his arms and reassure her but he seemed to panic her all the more. He was getting frustrated at his lack of eloquence. He never usually had this problem. It was her, she was the reason he was such a fool.

‘Just...don’t.’ She held up a hand to deter him from coming any further. Just a flick of her hand was enough to repel him; he felt helpless in the face of her denial. A surge of anger overtook him and before he knew what he was doing, he strode up to her and took hold of her by her arms, trapping her against the wall, his face just inches from hers. She gasped in pain, he was a bear of a man and his grip was strong.

‘Kiss me’ he insisted, hands shaking. She could feel him trembling but she held fast, despite the shock of it all. He got blasted by a basilisk stare and heard the hiss of her vindictive whisper taunting him, blinding him with her cruel reproach.

_‘Go to hell.’_

He had never wanted anyone the way that he wanted her. Slamming her on the bed with full force, she cried out as her head hit the frame and the rushing in her ears got louder, invading her head and making her feel dizzy, the breath knocked out of her. He was on top, pinning her down while ripping her skirt aside, his hands rough and eager. His breath quickened, he felt exhilarated, alive. He countered her terrified resistance and satisfied his suppressed desire quickly, the release he hadn’t felt in such a long time. Only when he had slowed down and breathed more evenly, sweat beading his brow, did he realise that her hand was still clutched at his shirt, ripping a deep tear in the pocket over his heart.

The lamp light flickered and the breeze from the window cooled his forehead but listening to her quiet sobbing filling the room struck him with a dread that froze him to the spot. What had he done? He slowly covered her delicate hand with his own and carefully drew her skirt across. He didn’t know what to do; he’d just disrespected a lady. Her hand unclasped and wrenched from under his.

He heard the slap first before a blinding pain whipped him across the face, hearing her furious cry in the background. He had barely recovered from the force of it when he made himself look, her anguished eyes bright with tears, accusing him of the degradation he had just afforded her. She had every right to take a knife to him. He knew he couldn’t make it right.

_‘I’m sorry.’_

 


	3. Chapter 3

‘Sorry isn’t enough.’

The rain lashed against the windows and the wind howled across the sky, tearing up the clouds with its ragged breath. How she felt inside.

He lay next to her, not touching, terrified of harming a hair on her head.

‘I didn’t mean this, this wasn’t what I wanted.’ He tried to explain, to make her understand what he meant, how he felt.

‘You think I wanted this?’ Her voice was hollow, traces of tears still shining on her face. He wanted to hold her, comfort her, to undo this entire thing. He wished he’d never come to her room tonight. But he wanted something from someone, even the usual trade off of insults they exchanged with each other. He was in isolation, without contact, needing someone’s touch to make him feel human. He could only pay for company; no free woman would want to look at him with one eye. He got noticed for the wrong reasons and ridiculed as the Cyclops from Paris. He was sick and tired of it. He would pay good money to lie with someone who treated him like he mattered, not just as another customer. But that was rare to find. And with someone who wanted to, not needed to. He tried to say all of this sincerely so that she would understand his atrocious actions. Understand, but not possibly forgive.

He got no reaction from her, could barely hear her breathing. Timidly he stretched out his arm and touched her cheek with his little finger, gently wiped away a tear. She didn’t resist nor respond. He wanted her to say something cruel to him, something that would make him feel ashamed of what he’d done even more but she said nothing. He could feel her pain but she had distanced herself so far from him, he couldn’t come near.

He stroked another tear tenderly off her face, reminding her of that soft knock at the door several minutes earlier. Could he be telling the truth? She knew women scorned him for the loss of an eye but for him to feel so lonely as to set upon her like that, surely it meant something. He was a thinker, not just a fighter. He hadn’t tossed her aside when he had finished with her. He was begging her to listen. She tensed when he touched her but nothing happened. Nothing to be frightened of. He had simply melted away a little of the wrath she had bottled up inside. He had appealed for a kiss, a curious request for her; she was not in the habit of kissing the men she bedded. It was too much intimacy for her to maintain, she had to keep her distance.

They lay there in silence, listening to the storm shriek around them.  Slowly she uncurled her fingers and rested them lightly on his open palm. He felt a tingle of electricity run through him.


	4. Chapter 4

How long they lay there, he couldn’t tell. All he could feel was the warm touch of her hand against his. He could barely breathe for the feeling that if he moved an inch, the spell would be broken. Her eyes were closed, not a sign that what he had done had imprinted its memory on her face. She looked like an angel, he could hardly believe how he had despised her, how he could have thought she was such a hardnosed bitch. All of a sudden she opened her eyes and fixed him with a clear gaze, shooting straight to his heart. What could he do? He could do nothing but stutter through his apologise as to why he had stayed so long in her room. He should have left earlier, it wasn’t appropriate to stay in a lady’s room without her request. She had not requested him to be here, nor did she have to tolerate his presence. He turned, just about get off the bed but she said nothing, simply squeezed his hand tighter, stopping his explanation and his exit straight away. She didn’t need it. She tugged on his hand, bringing him back to the bed.

Very slowly she leaned over him, strands of her hair tickling his cheek. Sliding a hand to his neatly shaven chin, she pressed her lips to his. What he had asked for. He was so taken aback; he put a hand out to stop her but realised a second later what a fool he was. He responded to her in the same style, slow and languorous, velvet to the touch. He felt like he was in a dream, the storm outside faded into blue, without hesitation he let her take control of his entire being, all the way through to his soul.

Milady had made her decision just as he had turned to leave. He had stayed with her, holding her through the pain he had unwittingly inflicted. Rochefort wasn’t a coward and his allegiance to Richelieu was steadfast. He was a man like all the others; he did to her what men always do, but his loyalty to both of their emotions marked him somewhat to be different from the rest. He wanted the one thing she wasn’t prepared to give. Not to any man. Not since Athos had cast her from his life. But the moment she pressed her lips to his, she felt no sorrow for intimacy long since lost. Could she be able to be loyal to a man again? A healing glow emanated from their entwined bodies as the kiss extended longer and deeper. When it ended, she looked into his dark eyes and wordlessly warned him that if he ever forced her onto the bed again, more than just a slap would follow. He had no doubt she would wreck bloody revenge on him. He understood perfectly. The kiss was on loan. He had so much to owe her.

He pulled her gently into his embrace and they lay there, content to be in each other’s arms. He had been searching for years for a woman just to kiss and all this time he had never realised she was there all along. He couldn’t pretend it was love, but to be near her, just a kiss was enough. 

                


End file.
